


True Names

by Moonsault



Series: The Darkling Plain [7]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Flirting, Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 02:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsault/pseuds/Moonsault
Summary: At the Royal Rumble, Becky Lynch tries to recruit Aleister Black to use his magic to help out with supernatural encroachments.  There's just one problem:Aleister doesn't have any idea what she's talking about.  Magic isn't real, right?





	True Names

Aleister Black walked away from the ring, limping up the ramp away from his defeated opponent. The applause of the Houston crowd lapped around him, but he was untouched by it; it broke around him like a surging sea. He took a deep breath: it had felt good to beat Cole. As good as it had felt to beat… he forced himself to think it, to articulate it mentally: as good as it had felt to beat Velveteen Dream. He owed the man his name. 

Despite himself, he remembered the surge of energy between them as they had grappled at the last TakeOver, the way emotions had churned up inside him, unbidden and unwanted. He hadn’t felt such things when fighting Cole. So much anger, so much excitement. He had to stop at the memory and put his hand against the wall, feeling the cool impassivity of the cinder blocks against his palm. Don’t feel. Think. The sound of hot breath at his ear, the feeling of rage and alarm in the pit of his stomach as Velveteen Dream had taunted and teased at him. Think. His jacket shrugged carelessly around shoulders like whipcord and satin. Don’t feel.

He was still struggling to regain his composure when he heard running footsteps behind him. He turned to find a woman coming toward him, her face worried beneath a bright mane of red hair: Becky Lynch, that was her name.

“Black!” she called. “Aleister Black, right?” At his nod, she went on, “Look, I wouldn’t usually do this, but I’ve got no time for the formalities: we really need your help. The Bludgeon Brothers, they’re furious that they’re not on the card and they’re going on a rampage, they’re trying to summon one of the Old Gods--” She threw her hands up in the air, “--I wanted to give you more time to settle in, but this is serious stuff, and the Spirit Squad is so depleted right now. We lost Enzo, Cass is in rehab, Hideo isn’t here, Corey’s out straight, and Sami--” She broke off and looked away for a second, distress bright in her eyes, then sniffed hard and went on with a tremulous smile. “Anyway. Can you help?”

Aleister took a step away from her. “What are you talking about?” he said cautiously.

The apologetic look in Becky’s eyes gave way to a hint of exasperation. “We’re alone,” she said, waving her hands to take in the empty hall. “You don’t have to pretend. We don’t have time to waste with these kinds of games.”

“Games,” Aleister said. He felt unease in the pit of his stomach and tried to breathe evenly, tried to focus himself. “What are you talking about?”

Becky started to say something angry, her eyes snapping--then stopped. She looked at Aleister closely, and dismay went across her face. “You’re not--” She broke off. “Oh my God, you don’t _know_?”

“Know what?” Aleister said--or started to, but then with no warning at all the wall seemed to implode and some _thing_ made of thorns and tentacles started to crawl out of a swirling vortex as the sound of bludgeons striking concrete rang out somewhere and eerie flat laughter filled the corridor.

“Get behind me!” Becky screamed, putting her goggles over her eyes and grabbing her phone from her pocket. At least, it looked like a phone, but as Aleister watched utter shock it unfolded into something like a whirring shield of gears of glittering lights. She threw it up between them and a stream of light, somehow nauseating and all _wrong_ , struck it and parted around them like a river of madness and chaos. Becky fell back one step, then another, until Aleister’s back was against the far wall. He stared as the shield began to smoke and spark, driven beyond fear into a sort of numbed resignation: _Well, this is certainly happening._

 _”Becky!”_ A figure launched itself into vision: he recognized Bayley, her hands wreathed in light, striking at the eldritch horror in front of them. It roared, a rattling noise that froze Aleister’s blood, and one spiky tendril raked across her arm, bright blood springing up in its wake. She screamed, and without thinking Aleister jumped forward and grabbed her to drag her behind Becky’s shield. “It’s too strong!” Bayley yelled at Becky. “We have to go get Sami!”

“No!” Becky took an angry step forward, and the acrid smoke pouring off her shield increased as the torrent of _wrongness_ against it intensified. “He won’t come, he’ll just laugh and tell us to stop making up stories, _he’s forgotten everything, Bayley, we’re on our own--!_ ”

And then suddenly there was a blur of colors in front of them and Aleister blinked to see Asuka facing the writhing mass of tentacles and claws and eyes, a dangerous smile on her face. The monstrous squirming shape… it _cringed_ , as much as a coiling knot of uncanny chaos could cringe, and made an apologetic little motion with two tentacles before slowly heaving its bulk backwards into the portal, disappearing at last with a soft, sad _slurping_ noise.

Becky slowly lowered her shield and lifted her goggles. She, Bayley and Aleister all stared at Asuka, who was grinning at them and shifting from foot to foot. She shrugged, and at the sudden motion Aleister saw Becky and Bayley both go tense until the Empress of Tomorrow took a step backwards, still smiling. Asuka bit her lip, giving them a slow, measuring look, and then turned her back on them and danced away down the corridor.

Bayley sagged against the wall. “Fox spirits, man, they’re great as long as they’re on your side, but you never know if they’re going to stay there, right?” Her rueful smile included Aleister, but then it fell away into annoyance. “You could have helped a little,” she snapped at him.

Aleister’s knees went weak and he found himself sitting on the floor, back against the wall for support, legs crossed. From above him he heard Becky say, “I don’t think he could, actually. He’s… _mundane._ ”

“What?” Bayley said. “No way.” She squatted down to look Aleister in the eye and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He stared at her.

“I don’t get it,” Becky said, sounding exasperated. “All the ritualistic symbols! The hexagram, the Hand of Glory, the--” She broke off, glaring down at him.

“Shit,” said Aleister, “they’re just _symbols,_ kid. They look cool and help people remember me. They’re not-- They’re not--”

“Oh my _God,_ ” said Becky, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I thought we’d have an ally in NXT, someone who could rebuild the ranks, and instead we’ve just got some _poser._ ”

“Hey, that’s kind of harsh,” said Bayley.

Becky threw up her hands. “No, ‘kind of harsh’ is almost getting eaten by an Elder God because this guy wants to look like a magic-based badass!”

Aleister came to his feet. “I’m not a _poser,”_ he said, feeling anger lacing his blood, trying to will it away. “I use the symbols and meditation to hone my mind and transcend emotion. It brings me peace and focus. How was I supposed to know that--” His voice cracked slightly and he swallowed hard.

Bayley reached out and touched Aleister’s cheek. Her fingers came away smudged with scarlet. “He jumped out to save me from those thorns,” she said to Becky. “He’s no coward.”

Becky frowned. “But he’s also no--” She dropped the goggles back over her eyes and gave him a long measuring look. “Or is he?” Raising the goggles again, she met his eyes squarely. “Look, Black, there may be more to you than there seems to be, even if you don’t know it. When you get back to Florida, go talk to Matt Bloom. Then you’ll have a choice to make.”

“Thank you,” Bayley said softly as Becky turned away. “You were very brave.”

They walked away, and as they turned the corner and disappeared from sight, Aleister walked over to the far side of the corridor, looking at the place where the writhing portal had appeared. None of the cinder blocks looked any different. Did they? Was one of them touched with some kind of luminous slime? 

He was still staring at it when someone behind him said “Hey.”

Aleister didn’t _jump_ at the sound, exactly, but he did lift off the ground just a bit. He came down glaring at Velveteen Dream, who was looking at him with that annoyingly sultry expression on his face, lips pouting as though waiting for a kiss. “What the hell do you want?” Aleister snapped, and his annoyance grew as Velveteen Dream looked even more satisfied at the edge to his voice, as if Aleister had complimented him.

“Nice match tonight,” Velveteen Dream said. “Not as good as mine, of course,” he said, preening, “but pretty good.”

“I didn’t watch yours so I wouldn’t know,” Aleister said.

A glint of hurt gleamed in Velveteen Dream’s eyes before he smiled again. “You’re on edge tonight. Did Cole rattle you?” He leaned a little closer. He smelled like sage and leather, and it was very distracting. “I might be jealous. I thought I was the only person who got to rattle you, _Aleister._ ”

“Keep my name out of your mouth,” Aleister said, and the corner of Velveteen Dream’s mouth tilted just a little. “You don’t rattle me. It has nothing to do with you.”

Velveteen Dream looked at him for a long moment, and something seemed to shift in his face at whatever he saw in Aleister’s. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Can I help?”

The simplicity and directness of it took Aleister’s breath away for just a second. Velveteen Dream was very close, so close Aleister could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and for just a moment he wanted to bury his face in Velveteen Dream’s shoulder and let the solid heat of it ground him…

He stepped back instead. “I’m fine,” he said. “I don’t need your help, Velveteen Dream.”

“Oh please.” The airy irony was back in place. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t need you to call me by my _full_ name every time. I like most people to call me Dream, but you?” He kissed the air between them, fluttering his eyelashes. “You can call me Vel.”

“I don’t intend to call you anything at all,” Aleister said firmly, and walked past him, ignoring the feeling of eyes following him all the way down the corridor.

* * *

He almost didn’t go to see Matt Bloom. Talking to the head trainer would make what happened in Philadelphia too… _real,_ and he wasn’t sure he wanted that. But after waking in a cold sweat from nightmares in which solid surfaces turned viscous under his fingers, yielding like rotten flesh to the touch, he found himself in Bloom’s office.

“Becky Lynch said I should talk to you,” Aleister said.

Bloom gave him a long look. “She mentioned something happened in Philadelphia. Would you like to explain?”

It was a last chance for an out, Aleister could tell. He could say he’d had some strange hallucinations, suggest he’d been concussed, and Bloom would nod and let it go. But instead he found himself explaining it all in a matter-of-fact way, trying to keep everything clear and organized in his mind. He included as much detail as possible, and Bloom’s eyebrows rose in what Aleister thought might be appreciation.

“...so I guess what I’d like to know, sir, is where do I fit in now?” Aleister finished. “I don’t understand what’s going on, but now that I’ve seen it, I don’t feel like I can just walk away from that knowledge.”

Bloom nodded slowly, pursing his lips. “First off,” he said, “I wonder if you know how unusual that makes you? Being willing to remember and accept this new information, I mean. Most people find a way to rationalize it away or forget it entirely. Ask Seth Rollins if he’s ever been to the literal Hell and he’ll laugh at you.” Aleister tried to hide his reaction to the casually-dropped news that Hell was an actual place. “Kevin Owens has had more encounters with the other side than I can count, but he refuses to remember any of them. Most people, given evidence that demons and vampires are real, they’ll do their level best to blot it from their memories.”

“Vampires too, huh?”

Bloom ignored his muttered aside. “I’ll be blunt with you, Black: as you’ve basically figured out, a lot of the weird stuff that goes on in the world of professional wrestling is real. There’s a small group of people who try to keep things under control, but lately the ranks have been depleted. Here in Florida, we’re down to Ember and myself.”

Somehow it didn’t surprise Aleister in the least that Ember Moon had supernatural powers.

“Luckily, we haven’t had many incursions lately. Kairi is a dimension-hopper, but she’s benign.”

“Let me guess,” Aleister said, “she’s actually a pirate princess.”

Bloom shrugged. “Her home dimension is some kind of Waterworld scenario, roving bands of pirates everywhere. She claims most of us are there in some form--she and Baszler seem to go back a long way where she’s from. But anyway,” he went on, “things have been pretty quiet here. Thing is, I can’t count on that holding true forever, and I can’t afford to pass up a possible ally.” He leaned forward, meeting Aleister’s eyes. “Becky said that even though you don’t know it, she detected an aura of magic around you.”

Aleister frowned, unnerved. “That’s impossible. I’m telling you, it’s all just a way to stand out. It’s just a look, a theme. She must have just sensed some leftover stuff from the creepy thing that was trying to eat our world.”

Bloom snorted. “That’s a pretty interesting way to describe one of the Old Ones. Most non-magical folk would have been driven to madness just by seeing one. Ultimate Warrior crossed paths with one once, and he was never quite the same.”

Aleister shrugged, feeling a slight sheen of sweat on his brow. “I’m just an ordinary person, sir.”

Bloom shot him an assessing look. “If you ever change your mind, Black, we could use the extra help. It’s WrestleMania season, after all.”

“What does WrestleMania have to do with it?”

A gusty sigh. “Something always goes wrong around WrestleMania. _Always._ Last year Undertaker almost burned down the arena with some excess hellfire. If Finn hadn’t been there and ready--it was lucky for us he wasn’t wrestling last year so he wasn’t distracted.”

“Ah,” said Aleister, still trying to process things.

“Then there was the Wyatt mess--we were picking maggots out of the equipment for _days._ Shouldn’t be a problem this year, though, thanks to Woken Matt--I’m thinking about recruiting him, actually. The point is, WrestleMania is a time of heightened magical influences, and you never know if you’re going to be dealing with another Faerie invasion or a bad case of Circe Syndrome.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Animal transformation,” Bloom said. “It was a long time ago, and we got it all sorted out… except for poor Mantaur.”

“Right,” Aleister said, resisting the impulse to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I understand if you don’t want to deal with any of this,” Bloom said. “Just think it over, okay?”

“What’s Velveteen Dream?” Aleister wanted to cover his mouth the moment he’d said it.

Bloom looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is he some kind of… djinn? A warlock?” It was the only way Aleister could explain the weird feeling of vertigo around him.

Bloom shook his head. “He’s just a guy, Black. A weird vain guy who happens to be a great wrestler. But a normal guy.”

Aleister had some doubts about that. Not about the _weird,_ or the _vain,_ or even--rather grudgingly--about the _great wrestler._ But as he left the Performance Center and discovered Velveteen Dream leaning against his car, he definitely had some reservations about the _normal_ part.

“Let’s go out for coffee,” Vel said, smiling as if he were doing Aleister a huge favor.

“No thanks,” said Aleister, reaching for the door handle.

Vel reached out as though he were going to stop him from opening the door, then paused. Aleister did too, for some reason. “You haven’t seemed yourself since the Royal Rumble,” Vel said.

“What’s ‘myself?’” Aleister asked without thinking.

A smile twitched Vel’s lips, but then he stopped and seemed to think about it. “Yourself is usually… exasperatingly centered. Irritatingly focused. Annoyingly controlled. You seem to have a lot on your mind. Do you want to talk about it?”

Aleister started to brush by him, then stopped. “Actually,” he heard himself say, “I do.”

The look of utter surprise on Velveteen Dream’s face made him look even younger for a second.

* * *

“Are you sure you should be telling me all this?” Velveteen Dream lifted his coffee mug to his lips, pinkie extended, his head tilted coyly. But his eyes looked both worried and serious, and it was those eyes Aleister kept speaking to.

“Maybe not, actually. But I don’t know who else to talk to. Adam Cole doesn’t seem a good choice.”

Vel’s snort of laughter was somehow reassuringly human. “I guess not.”

“So they say I’ve got some kind of magical ability, but I have no idea what they mean.”

Aleister couldn’t tell if Vel believed him. He kind of doubted it. He wasn’t sure he believed himself, really. But when he shook his head, he at least looked sincere--as sincere as Velveteen Dream could ever look, that was. “You’re like Harry Potter, man. Living under a staircase, waiting for your owl.” It was a measure of how many weird things had happened to him lately that discovering Velveteen Dream was a Harry Potter fan barely made the list. “Just think, you could magic yourself a title if you could figure it out. Whammy Almas into handing it over.”

Aleister frowned. “I wouldn’t want to win like that.”

Velveteen Dream rolled his eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t. You’re so _boring._ ”

Aleister ignored the insult. “I just feel like if I do have some kind of power, I should figure out how to use it to help.”

“To _help_?”

“Hey.” Aleister felt his voice sharpen. “I don’t stay aloof because I don’t care. I’m like this because it’s the only way I can get through the day sometimes. You don’t have any idea--” He broke off and looked away, remembering days spent in a haze of blank anguish, nights when death felt like it would be a mercy. “If I had actual power to make other people’s lives better, I feel like I have a responsibility to find a way to use it.”

“Ah,” said Velveteen Dream. He finished his coffee in silence. When he spoke again, his voice was mockery-free, rich and deep and surprisingly gentle. “You’re so good at that cool exterior that sometimes I forget I’ve seen past it before. I fought you in the ring and for a second…” He broke off, shaking his head. “I don’t know how much of your story I can really believe, but I will tell you this.” He put the coffee cup down and rose from the table, looking at Aleister with the ghost of a smile on his lips. “You definitely have magic.”

Aleister watched him saunter off. He was too startled to come up with anything clever to call after him, so he simply stayed silent. It had always worked in the past, after all.

* * *

Weeks went by. Aleister started to chase the NXT title. His nightmares receded, replaced by dreams of the moment at the end of his match with Velveteen Dream. How they had sat there together on the mat and he had felt his opponent’s body shaking, felt as though some conduit was open between them. The mic in his hand. The way his rival’s breath had caught when Aleister had called him _Velveteen Dream._

He started to have coffee with Vel more regularly. They talked about wrestling, they made jokes about Lars Sullivan and Adam Cole, and one day Aleister found himself inviting Vel over to his apartment. 

“Oh my God. You really _are_ Harry Potter,” Velveteen Dream said in unfeigned excitement, staring around the apartment, looking suddenly extremely young. “Look at this. Look at all this _stuff._ ” He ran an elegant finger along the leather-bound spines of the books on the shelves, tapped at the various crystals in delight. 

“It’s just props,” Aleister said uneasily. “For atmosphere in promos. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I think it does,” Vel said. “I think you’re unconsciously searching for what your magic is. You know, like some magicians are elementalists and some are necromancers and some are, like, crystal users?” He picked up one of the smoky quartz crystals, turning it over in his hand. “Can you feel any power in this?”

“No,” said Aleister. “It’s just a piece of rock.”

“Oh come _on,_ ” Vel said, grabbing his hand and wrapping his fingers around the cool crystal. “Maybe you can--”

He stopped talking at whatever he saw in Aleister’s eyes, then let go of his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, looking away. “I know you don’t like people to touch you.” Then grinned, all mercurial opaqueness again. “But we’ll figure it out. The Velveteen Dream is _on the case,_ so it can’t be a mystery forever,” he announced, preening. “You’ll soon be the magician you were always destined to be, and I, the Velveteen Dream, will have--”

“--I don’t always mind people touching me,” Aleister said. “It’s okay sometimes.”

A quick, sideways glance from dark eyes. “Like when?”

“I’m… not sure. I’ll know when.”

“Ah.” Velveteen Dream nodded slightly. “Okay.”

* * *

“We’ll both be champions by this time next week,” Velveteen Dream said, sipping his coffee. He was wearing some truly unbelievable scarf and those three-lensed sunglasses, and people kept stopping to stare at him, an impulse Aleister could understand. Unfortunately.

“You’re so sure,” Aleister said.

“Of _course_ we will. I’ll take out all of those losers like--” A contemptuous snap of his fingers. “And then you’ll beat that annoying El Ídolo, and it’ll be the weekend of Black and Dream.” He took another sip of coffee and his lips curved on the mug. “And then I’ll come gunning for the NXT title and be the first double-title holder in NXT.”

“In your dreams,” Aleister snorted.

“Speaking of which…” Vel spoke lightly, as if it absolutely didn’t matter, which Aleister knew by now meant it absolutely did. “I keep having weird dreams about our match.”

“That’s odd,” said Aleister.

“I can’t figure out why,” said Vel. He laughed. “Other than I’m unhealthily obsessed with you, but I already knew _that._ But there was something about the end of the match…”

“Dreaming about someone doesn’t mean that you’re unhealthily obsessed,” Aleister said.

Vel looked at him for a long moment, his smile widening slowly. “Okay, delete the ‘unhealthily,’” he said.

* * *

“Still no idea what Becky meant about you having power?”

Aleister grimaced at Matt Bloom. “Not at all.”

Bloom nodded. “It’s just, here we are at WrestleMania weekend, and in New Orleans, which is _already_ a pretty uncanny place, and… I just have a bad feeling about this weekend.”

“I wish I could help you. I really do.”

“I know.” Bloom looked apologetic. “I know you’ve got a lot to worry about already, with the title match and all. We’ll have people on the scene because the main roster’s in town: Becky, Bayley, Finn, Corey, Hideo. And hey, the Dragon is back in action, that’s got to be a good sign.”

“Please don’t tell me Daniel Bryan is an--”

“--actual American Dragon, yes. Of course he is.”

“Of course he is,” Aleister said a little faintly.

* * *

Backstage, he watched the North American title match--not because Velveteen Dream was in it, but because it was important to watch that historic first win. But when he felt anger burning like a tiny hot coal under his sternum at Adam Cole’s smug face clutching the title, he knew he had been hoping Velveteen Dream would win. He wanted them to be co-champions together.

Because he was going to be champion.

He had no idea if it was magic--it didn’t _feel_ like magic, it felt like nothing but a simple, clear knowledge, that he was going to defeat Cien Almas. His mind was clear as crystal, his heart focused. Even the anger at Cole seemed only to sharpen and intensify his concentration. Nothing was going to stop him, he realized as he rose up into the music, as he walked to the ring: not the champion, not Vega. Not even his own doubts and fears.

It was his time.

When he finally pinned the champion, when the title was placed into his hands, it felt like everything fell into place at last. He lifted it up and felt himself smiling as if his heart were overflowing with joy, not caring who saw him that way, with all the careful aloofness stripped away. 

He had his impassiveness back firmly in place by the time he got to the back. People crowded around, slapping his back, his shoulders, his _title_ with casual familiarity. He wanted to wince every time, but he held himself steady, breathing through his nose, keeping himself grounded as much as he could. The pictures with Hunter. The interviews. It was all a blur that only snapped into focus again as he limped down the hallway and turned a corner to find himself face to face with Velveteen Dream.

He stepped back warily, for a second half-certain that Velveteen was going to attack him, challenge him for the title.

“Hey,” Vel said, a shade of hurt in his eyes. “I wouldn’t do that.” The vulnerability vanished into a blindingly cocky smile. “You’ll know way in advance when I’m coming for your title.”

“Good,” Aleister managed. He felt strange: both more whole than ever before and more exhausted than he had ever been.

With the usual mercurial shift, the arrogance disappeared from Vel’s face, replaced by something Aleister had never seen before. It took him a moment to realize it was uncertainty. “May I… touch it?” Velveteen asked with the air of a person who was unused to asking permission. “The title, I mean. Your title.”

Aleister had to take a deep breath at this sudden, unexpected consideration. “Yes,” he said.

Velveteen Dream reached out with an open hand, then paused with his palm a few inches from the gleaming gold. Aleister took a step forward and brought it to his fingers, and Vel sighed at the feel of the metal beneath his touch, closing his eyes. “I’m so glad you won,” he said, his voice shaking slightly.

“I wish you had,” Aleister said. “I wish you had too, Velveteen Dream.” He put all the weight of significance he could into the name, and saw sudden tears on Vel’s lashes. On a sudden impulse, Aleister took Vel’s hand in his and raised it to his lips for just a moment.

Velveteen Dream looked at him in wonder, then pulled his hand back and touched his lips to the place Aleister had kissed. His smile went impish again. “Am I greedy to want more?”

“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” said Aleister.

“And do you?” Velveteen Dream smiled, all confidence and brashness. “Want me, I mean?”

“Yes,” said Aleister. “Yes, I do.” But then the match caught up to him and the corridor spun around him for a moment; when things stabilized he realized he was half-crouched against the wall, still clutching his title. 

Vel looked concerned, but hadn’t moved to touch him. As Aleister pulled himself upright, he laughed softly. “Maybe not tonight.”

“No,” Aleister agreed. “Maybe not tonight. But maybe tomorrow,” he added, and savored the flare of delight in Vel’s eyes.

As it turned out, however, tomorrow was going to be even more tumultuous.

* * *

“Asuka’s nowhere to be found!” Matt Bloom was yelling over the sound of a rising wind. “Her streak getting broken--I don’t think she’s going to help. Becky and Bayley are containing the storm for the moment, but they can’t hold it forever!”

Aleister looked around wildly. The air was full of water, a mix of ocean spray and muddy Mississippi froth. “Is there anyone else?”

“Even if Sami were still on the team, water elementals are not his strength! Finn’s got his own problems with the Demon lately, Corey is still busy calling the damn show--” Bloom dodged a sudden lashing whip of water. “He’s going to drown the whole arena! He’s going to raise the ocean and wipe everything out!”

Aleister stared at the chaos backstage. Shinsuke Nakamura was standing utterly still in the center of a maelstrom, sheets of water scouring outward from him, tossing people against walls. He was smiling slightly, a dangerously calm smile. He raised one hand in a regal gesture, and the wind picked up even more.

“What’s his _problem_?” Aleister called to Bloom.

“He doesn’t look in a mood to explain himself, does he?” Bloom stepped forward, holding out a hand. “Nakamura- _sama,_ please don’t--”

His voice broke off in a grunt of pain as Nakamura gestured and a writhing tentacle of water lashed out to seize him and hurl him into a pile of equipment.

Nakamura looked at Aleister, and his eyes took in the title on his shoulder. His smile became a deadly thing, and he pointed right at him. 

Aleister froze.

And then something was shoving him out of the way, sending him sprawling to the floor. Aleister stared in shock as Velveteen Dream turned from him to stagger toward Nakamura, his feet slipping on the wet concrete, waving his arms. “Stop it!” Velveteen Dream yelled. “Nakamura, stop it!”

Nakamura’s eyes narrowed, and a spiral of water wound its way around Velveteen Dream, lifting him from the ground. Any suspicion Aleister had that Vel was somehow supernatural disappeared as the coil of water constricted and Vel screamed, his head falling back in agony, struggling to escape. He was just a normal human being, just a weird amazing normal human being, and Aleister suddenly found himself striding forward and yelling “Let go of him!”

Nakamura stared at him from the center of the maelstrom, his hair lifting and falling, his eyes filled with laughing chaos.

“Release Velveteen Dream now!” Aleister said with all the authority he could muster, putting out a hand. 

Nothing at all happened, and Aleister suddenly knew he was going to die.

Nakamura looked entirely unmoved, but Vel suddenly opened eyes clouded with pain and looked at Aleister.

“Aleister,” he gasped. “You--my name--that’s your magic, Aleister! You know the--” The spiral of water tightened and his voice broke off for a second. “You know true names! You can--”

 _Right._ Aleister knew this kind of magic, that if you knew a being’s true name you could control them. He stared at Nakamura, trying to figure out what in the world his true name could possibly be. Struggling.

But then an odd thing happened.

He could feel himself… _settle_ , more grounded, more stable. He was a champion. He could do this. He knew in that moment that true names gave no control. They gave only understanding and wisdom. And sometimes that was enough.

Closing his eyes, he opened himself to the fury of the being in front of him, let the anger flow into him and touch his heart with truth. He heard himself speaking--not English, not Dutch, not Japanese, but some language older than any of them. He called the force before him by its true name--a long liquid song’s worth of dancing syllables--and gave it sympathy and understanding, and felt the bitter rage recede like a long, slow tide.

The coil of water around Velveteen Dream loosened as the wind died, and Vel slumped to the ground at Aleister’s feet. Aleister knelt, barely aware of Nakamura turning his back and walking away, and took Vel in his arms. “Hey,” he said as Vel coughed and grabbed at him. “Are you okay?”

Velveteen Dream grabbed him by the lapels and buried his face in his shoulder, shaking all over. Just a normal human being, brave and frightened and alone.

“I’m sorry,” Vel said eventually, pulling back. “I didn’t mean to--”

Aleister pulled him close again. “It’s okay,” he said. “I want you to hold me.”

Vel sighed as if he were letting go of something and relaxed against him. Aleister could see Matt Bloom limping toward them, Bayley and Becky behind him, their hair soaked with water. He looked up at them.

“I’m ready to help,” he said.

“Me too,” Velveteen Dream said, his voice muffled by Aleister’s shoulder. “I’m joining too.”

“Oh?” Becky raised an eyebrow. “What makes you special?”

Velveteen Dream dragged himself to his feet and Aleister stood with him. “I’m--” Vel paused and coughed, then tried again: “I’m--” He broke off, suddenly uncertain.

“He’s Velveteen Dream,” said Aleister, “and he’s with me.”

“Damn right,” Velveteen Dream said, the doubt vanishing into a blinding smirk. “Damn right.”


End file.
